


Something Like It

by hiza-chan (callunavulgari)



Series: Dark Month Collection [18]
Category: Legend of Zelda: The Ocarina of Time
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-19
Updated: 2012-04-19
Packaged: 2017-11-03 21:52:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/386349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callunavulgari/pseuds/hiza-chan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He lets Sheik drink from him, lets the blood bubble up and the dizziness come, because nothing will ever be enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something Like It

**Author's Note:**

> Dark Month 2010, Day 23, for sometimesamuse -- Sheik/Link, "the scars on your hands" . ...I can be cliche sometimes, can't I?

Link remembers it all. The fire and the screaming, the shrieking, and the way the townfolk had thrown holy water by the bucket full. He remembers the way that Sheik's skin had sizzled and burnt, the way that Zelda screamed as they'd tied her to the pyre, ropes doused in holy oil.  
  
He remembers being helpless, and the way the townsfolk had patted his arm- the way they'd said soothingly, _don't worry sire, you'll be back to yourself once the monsters are gone._ The ropes had bitten into his wrists too, but they were weak- made for the comfort of a fellow human.  
  
Zelda had screamed and sobbed, her skin melting every time they tossed the holy water at her only to grow back moments later, when the process was repeated. He remembers the way Sheik had yelled for him, sure that they'd done something to _Link_ first, the helpless human.  
  
They'd lit Zelda's pyre first, and they were both forced to watch- shrieking and clawing at their ropes as she crumbled to ash before them.  
  
Link's ropes had fallen apart the moment they lit Sheik's pyre, his lover going up in flames- skeleton crackling and popping as the flames fed on his skin. He'd clawed him down, fingers blistering in the embers as they grasped onto burning flesh, smoke choking him- Zelda's screams still echoing in his ears.  
  
Somehow, he'd gotten them free. Didn't look at the ash that used to be his wife as he smuggled their lover out of the castle. Didn't think about how, without it's Queen, Hyrule will fall apart.  
  
Grief hurts worse than the blisters, worse than the melted candle wax of his hand, worse than the way Sheik looks at him sometimes, on the bad days when they both wish he'd gotten there faster. He lets Sheik drink from him, lets the blood bubble up and the dizziness come, because nothing will ever be enough.  
  
But on the good days, Sheik will feather kisses across the ridges of scar tissue, look at the scars on his hands, at the story they tell- and they'll both think that maybe it's enough. That maybe, if they couldn't save her, Zelda would have wanted them to be happy.  
  
Not every fairytale has a happy ending, but sometimes, they have something like it.


End file.
